breath catches, consumed, clinging
to vanishing light
to the bare crowns of branches–
hope hangs tenuous, threaded–
taut, still, wintering
A seasonal dVerse quadrille for my December grid. De provided the word crown as inspiration.
the crunch of footsteps
clear blue sky
reflecting the rain
changeable skywind spatters
colors patterned light
full moon of autumn appears
leaves too soon amidst hopes of endless harvest
fragments linger, gold glittering
stars remember every invisible map
imprinted on the approaching dark
earth saturated with bonfires and bones
Two haiku and a sevenling for October and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday theme, suggested by Franci Hoffman, the harvest moon. The photos are of September’s full moon traveling across the southern sky outside my window. In the first one, it’s half reflected on the window pane.
The artwork is the first page, front and back, of a handmade paper journal I bought on Etsy. I bought three, one each for myself and my sisters-in-law, as we all have great intentions to do art journals–and hopefully this will get us going. I painted the page, and stitched over the front with a technique I’ve been wanting to try. Since the color bled through the paper, I did a small autumn grid on the back.
For what shines after all
through the dust in the air?
an opening, a clue, a wall—
what do we see or recall
through the threads made bare?
for what shines after all,
glittering amidst free and fall?
an answer within now and here?
or an opening, silent—a wall,
a shadow, the wind, a spell?
the hand that holds all we can bear?
for what shines after all–
an opening, a touch—or a wall?
The end is
the unrelenting blueness
with crystal cold
to sheer form, chanting
ancient songs of Boreas–
fabrications floating on
seas of sinking air
notes of silence pitched
holes with each unspoken word,
transform, to be borne
the years spin,
A poetic response to the January prompt at Myths of the Mirror, above. Somehow working in blues always leads me to stitching…in this case I painted two circles and cut the smaller one up and stitched it on top of the larger one.
Also linking to dVerse Open Link Night.
Multiply the circumstances–
What rises to the occasion?
What remains, over and over,
expecting to return again?
Look between—what is divided?
Multiply the circumstances.
What is buried? Which measurements
contain dust and ashes, which bones?
Around the patterned interval
tricks appear as what they are not.
Multiply the circumstances–
ghostlines projected in the air.
Symbols transforming the unseen–
abridged, compounded, mythical–
saved by neither fortune nor fate–
(multiply the circumstances)
A quatern for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. This is another repeating form–the same idea, but with its own distinct rhythm.
Go you darkened, alive,
in silence growing—
go you as wildness
mingling with earth and trees,
holding the sky open
to the wind, seedlings flying,
rooted in air.
Dance you as water falling,
as a jewel crowning–
dance you as the shadow
released to the circle of light,
undressing the stars down
to the bones, falling like moonlight
covered in crystalline wings.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
I’ve been reading Pablo Neruda…
Were I Other. Were I spoken in a different voice. Were I fallen into impossibility.
I would be like stars.
I would echo the feeling
that follows the wind.
Were I made of light. Were I pulsing like oceans. Were I to open as wide as never and nothing.
I would radiate
rainbows. I would paint moments
with sound. Fill absence.
For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, with synonyms for love and time. I’m not entirely sure this qualifies as a haibun. In the spirit of, anyway.
The embroidered watercolor is a work in progress. I plan to keep embroidering it until I stop.